


In the eyes of the beholder

by Lydia_Martin_trash



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Ass Play, Implied Ramsay Bolton/Theon Greyjoy, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Rough Oral Sex, Scars, self-image issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 16:31:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18035162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lydia_Martin_trash/pseuds/Lydia_Martin_trash
Summary: If Robb must date (people seem oddly set on that), then he wants to date someone hot.





	In the eyes of the beholder

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, lovely readers! As always, mind the tags. More details at the end notes.  
> Thank you so much to Mis_Shapes, who not only beta read this and saved the readers from some truly unfortunate things, but also commented and is awesome in general.  
> Thanks also to the people on the discord server who didn't mind being horny on main! <3

Robb accepts the invitation because he’s feeling lonely. He has made some friends already – Olyvar from the rugby team, Raynald and Lucas from Bio – but it’s a Tuesday. They’re busy and, well, Robb is done studying and new to being on his own.

  
He knows Benfred from home. They’re not the closest of friends, but he’s good enough to grab a pint with and have a few laughs. It was okay but not that exciting to learn he would be going to uni at King’s Landing too. Robb knows, on the back of his mind, that Benfred has a sort of… crush… on him, but that hadn’t seemed relevant when he said yes to going to the pub. It has never come up before, so Robb figures he’s safe and his friend will sort his feelings out on his own terms with minimal embarrassment for them both and he’ll be a bro and never speak of it again.

  
Only once they’re already there watching some people get violent over quiz night and eating chips, when Benfred tries to put an arm around Robb’s shoulders, does it dawn on him.

  
This is a date.

  
He squirms away as efficiently as he can, dragging his chair a few feet away. It’s sorta abrupt, but no one is paying attention, so he goes for it.

  
“Er… Ben, maybe I’m being presumptuous, but,” he starts, watching as Benfred’s brows furrow over his eyes, “I’m not interested in you that way. I’d rather we just be friends.”  
It immediately looks like Benfred will combust. His faces gets so red it’s almost purple, but then he recovers with a little cough.

“It’s alright. I figured I had to try, eh?” He shrugs, taking a big gulp of his beer.

For a moment, Robb considers being the girl in all of Sansa’s romantic movies and trying to comfort him, though it’s inconvenient as fuck to have to make the guy you just rejected feel better. But first of all, he has nothing to say. Yes, he thinks Benfred is an all-around good guy, nice and fun to be around. Even handsome in a squarely fashion. And Robb would maybe fuck him if he’s ever horny enough, which he’s not been in all the time they’ve known each other, even when he was sixteen. But he doubts Benfred wants to hear that right now, or ever.

Plus, in the movies that always seems to lead to the realization that the rejected guy was the right one all along, and an eventual handsy reconciliation under the moonlight. Robb tries to imagine kissing Benfred under the stars and shudders in disgust.

He’ll do the next best thing to be a good friend... barring pretending to be attracted to him.

“No problem, man. Next round is on me,” he says, and bolts for the counter.

The guy pouring drinks behind it is frankly scary. He has a gruesome smile that Robb can’t help but stare at, with an ugly scar that splits his full lips in four. He doesn’t seem to mind Robb staring though, and gives him a wide, friendly smile when Robb gives him his ID to open a tab. When Robb lingers there after getting the drinks, he gives him a puzzled look.

“Date going that bad, kid?” The barman asks, bemused. “Or I’m so handsome you forgot the way back?”

“It’s not a date,” Robb says, loudly, to be heard over the other patrons.

“Option number two, then,” and he gives a hearty laugh even louder than the chatter in the pub.

Robb snorts too, thinking uncharitably to himself the man is better company than Benfred right now, but soon the barman holds his hands up and turns to another client. Robb goes back to his table, a little calmer about the whole thing. Benfred and him are adults after all, and they’ve known each other from diapers. How awkward can it be?

Turns out, it can be very awkward. When they’re nearly done with the beer, Benfred tries to hold Robb’s hand, then turns red again after another rebuttal. Robb is angry enough that he won’t offer to buy another round, so Benfred does.

At first it seems like the second attempt will be alright as they laugh together at a group that is cannibalizing itself over some questions on pelicans, but then Benfred gently brushes a lock of Robb’s hair behind his ear. Robb sets his glass on the table hard, making a clatter that turns every eye on the pub to them.

“Fuck’s sake, I said to stop this shit!” He yells, uncaring if Benfred looks humiliated at having the whole pub watching him get rejected for the third time in a row.

It doesn’t even last long. Next thing, he’s red from anger instead and yelling at Robb.

“Really? You think you’re hot stuff, Stark?” Spit flies, and Robb leans away on his chair, trying to avoid getting hit. He wants nothing to do with any body fluid from this guy. “Had many offers already? Many boyfriends? You should be on your knees thanking me I took an interest at all!”

“I’ll thank you to leave the fuck alone, fuckwit!” Robb yells. Some people are already back to the quiz, but many are still enjoying the spectacle, and that only makes Robb angrier. This is not how he wanted to spend the night.

“I’ll remember that when you come crawling back,” Benfred says.

Robb rolls his eyes.

“I won’t. Get that through that square head of yours.”

People are openly laughing now, as Benfred achieves a new tone of purple. The insult is the last he can take, apparently, because he throws what is left of his pint on Robb’s face.

Now, Robb is many a good thing, but he’s not patient, nor calm. He also doesn’t enjoy being outdone, so he flips the table over Benfred without thinking twice. But the fight is over before it even starts. Ugly barman is on them in a second, and so are many other people who take quiz night very seriously, and they get separated before Robb has even once punched Benfred properly.

By some miracle, he isn’t kicked out together with Benfred. Instead, he’s lead to the gents and the barman sprays his face with water very liberally before leaving him to try to savage his shirt.

In the end he resigns himself to the loss and follows him out.

Most people have already left, because the fight put an early end to the night. Now that he’s sobered up some, he feels terrible for the staff putting up chairs and especially for the old man upturning the table he flipped and picking up glass shards from the sticky floor.

Wordlessly, he walks over and helps him.

“May I speak with the owner?”

“You’re talking to the one and only,” the barman says.

Robb is doubly embarrassed now, but he puts the glass shards he picked inside the newspaper he’s offered.

“I’d like to pay for the damage, sir. And to settle my tab and Benfred’s.”

The man snorts at that and waves Robb closer as he retakes his place behind the counter.

“Aren’t you a polite one, for someone who cost me half the night?” He grabs a pencil and calculator behind some bottles.

“I’m really sorry, sir,” Robb says, pushing his hair away from his eyes. “I didn’t expect that to happen at all. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, I will.”

He’s expecting some displeased grumbling and maybe to be waived away with just the bill and a promise to not come back. Sansa always says he dresses like a pauper. He isn’t expecting the calculating look the man gives him.

“Maybe there is,” he says. “You’re into men, or that friend got that wrong as well?”

Robb blinks. He can’t believe the night he’s having.

“I thought you were joking before,” he finally says, breaking the long, uncomfortable silence.

The man gives a bark of laughter so loud it startles even the workers cleaning at the back. Robb is only a little happy not to be alone jumping six feet in the air.

“Well, I know better than to try my three strikes. But I’m asking for my boy.”

Robb sighs. He’s never been in such high demand, but he’s more tired than anything. He doesn’t know how his better-looking siblings manage.

Yet, he takes his time to really look at the man, though he’s already planning to say no. He’s short and stock, built much like Robb himself. White hair that gives no clue to the original color, and bland blue eyes. Even before whatever happened to his face, he doesn’t look like he’d have been Robb’s type. It’s nearly impossible to imagine a younger version of him at all, much less one he’d be attracted to.

There’s always the possibility that the son takes after the mother, sure, but Robb isn’t risking it.

“Look, I’m sure your son is a very nice man, but I’m not really looking to date anyone right now. I was thinking about a monetary value.”

“Suit yourself.” The man shrugs, ugly smile pulling his lips further apart. “A million dragons.”

“What?! Are you out of your mind?” Robb yells. “There’s no way it cost that much!”

“I didn’t know the Starks were so cheap. It’s not a good look for the son of a Governor,” ugly barman says, busying himself by wiping down a perfectly clean part of the counter. “A million dragons plus your tab.”

“Really?” Robb says, giving an ugly laugh. “You’re playing it like this? Look, sir–“

“Dagmer.”

“Dagmer. I’m not paying more than your actual damages, and I’m not going to date your son. I’m not interested.”

Dagmer shrugs at this, but he’s still wearing the slightest smile.

“I doubt he’d be interested either. Have a seat. Hear me out and I’ll waive what you own me.”

Robb would rather pay and be done with all this, but he suspects it won’t be that easy, so he takes one of the high stools.

“So...” he takes the time to look at the ID Robb had left to open the tab earlier. “Robb. I don’t want you to date my son, I just want you to take him in a single date. Just the one.”

“Why the fuck do you want that?” Robb asks, shoving his hair out of his face again. “What kind of parent is that concerned with his son’s sex life?”

Dagmer’s smile falls away.

“The kind that wasn’t there to flip a table over when that worm wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

There’s no good answer to that, so Robb stays quiet, frozen in place. Dagmer sighs and scrubs harder at the counter.

“Theon used to date a lot. He was a bit of a player, but he’s always had a good heart. Now, though… he doesn’t think anyone will ever want him again.”

Robb gulps, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Do what I asked. Pretend you’re interested so he can see he has no reason to hide away.”

“That still doesn’t sound like the best plan, you know.”

Dagmer throws the cleaning rag on the counter, frustrated.

“You know, you’d have no chance with him in other circumstances. He’s a handsome boy, and funny and caring.”

“I’m sure he’s all that,” Robb says, annoyance mixing with compassion inside him. “He must be really brave as well, to have made it out of what you said he’s been through. You should be proud of him, not trying to set him up with the guy who helped trash your pub.”

Dagmer snorts at that, shaking his head.

“Maybe. I guess it was a long shot. It’s just, every single one of his partners were redheads, you know. When you got here on your failed date, I thought I had to try. That it was a signal or something.”

“Well, let’s just put that behind us,” Robb says, relieved. He tries to give Dagmer a smile, though he’s starting to feel a headache pounding inside his head. “How much do I owe you?”

“I’ll have to call the insurance,” he says. “Report everything that got broken.”

Robb knows for a fact that it was just a pair of glasses and the table, if that is even broken, but he nods, giving him a dragon.

“For the tabs. I’ll also give you my number, and my parents’, all right? You give me yours, and you can call me as soon as you have that report.”

“Thanks, lad.” Dagmer waves Robb’s ID in the air. “I’ll pass that along to your folks as well.”

Only after Robb pales like a sheet does he smile his great ugly grin.

“I kinda need my ID,” he tries, already knowing his reaction gave him away.

“It’s a nice one. Very professional.” Dagmer says. “So, should I give it to your parents, or to you, after you bring Theon home?”

Robb glares at Dagmer, immovable as a statue, then launches himself across the counter. Somehow Dagmer is quicker, and stronger than Robb expected. He shoves Robb back to the stool easily, fake ID still held firmly in hand, though he has the grace to give Benfred’s back.

“Saturday, 7pm,” he says. “Bring him back no later than 12 o’clock.”

Robb nods, defeated. He’s at the door when he remembers to ask.

“So your son… does he take after you?”

Dagmer arches a snow-white eyebrow at him, but the smile is almost subtle, compared to the other ones Robb’s seen from him.

“Sure. His father’s spitting image,” he says. “The lips are a genetic condition.”

Robb slams the door on his way out.  


* * *

  
He fumes about it for two whole days, which is two days longer than his rages usually last, but by Friday he’s resigned. Plus, he’s out of options.

“You could just let you parents know about the fake?” Olyvar suggests.

Robb shakes his head and keeps pacing the length of the narrow hallway, from the study desk to the end of the book shelf and back again. Bless him, he’s trying to be helpful, but he’s also never met Eddard ‘drinking-age-is-twenty-one-you’re-babies-forever’ Stark or Catelyn ‘your-father-is-the-governor-think-of-his-reputation’ Tully. There’s no way Robb will let that get to them if he can help it.

And there is also what Dagmer had said. That worm wouldn’t take no for an answer. How much of a jerk would Robb have to be to cancel the date now? It’s not this Theon’s fault that his father is a wannabe matchmaker, or that whatever happened to him happened. What if he’s looking forward to this Saturday? What if this is what he needs to get back out there and meet the love of his life?

“No, I’ll just go on this date, look like I’m putting in some genuine effort and have it be secretly awkward on purpose so he can be the one to dump me.”

“Sooo...” Olyvar puffs, cheeks going round for a second. “The movies? I don’t know, man, all my first dates were awkward by accident.”

“Is anything romantic showing?” Robb asks, finally settling at his side and hovering in front of his computer.

Olyvar is far too slow to type, and Robb has to drum his fingers on the table to keep from taking the computer from him, especially when he snorts.

“Tomorrow’s Maidday, of course something romantic is showing.”

“What?” Robb blinks. “What that has to do with anything?”

“I always forget you’re from the North, you don’t have much of an accent,” Olyvar says, scrolling through the menu options calmly like they actually have time to lose. “Lots of Summer Islanders settled here some hundreds years ago, and the Maid sorta became this figure for the love goddess? Or one figure? In any case, yeah, Maidday is all about the loving now, didn’t you notice we’re drowning in hearts wherever we go? My half-brother Luceon hates it, he gives a service complaining about it every year.”

To prove him right, not one, not two, but all the movies showing are romances. From light humor flicks to historical, star-crossed to wedding movies, there’s one for every taste. And they’re all sold out, every single one of them, as are all the concerts they find.

Robb resumes pacing with an angry huff. He calls a couple of fancy restaurants, they’re all booked. So are the carriage ride services, the dancing classes, even the Essossi food tour, which is actually a relief, and man, he can see why Olyvar’s dates were awkward, but the point stands. Robb can’t even rent a canoe. This is a disaster before it has even begun.

“Zoo?” Olyvar says, throwing a paper ball at Robb where he’s sprawled in defeat in a chair.

Robb watches the ball approaching and lets it hit his chest before falling to the library floor. He doesn’t move except to raise a brow.

“Yeah, if I commit a break in to see the animals with my cell’s light, at least he’ll dump me for sure.”

“Seven, you’re impossible to please,” Olyvar groans. “You’d think you want this date to succeed.”

Robb shrugs, but he has no answer.

Maybe he wants it to be good, just a little. To make a positive impression on this guy and remind him that love is possible like Dagmer asked, even if it is not possible with Robb. It would also be nice to prove to himself that he can, in fact, knowingly go on a date with someone and, even if they’re not into each other, have a pleasant evening that doesn’t end in property damage. Part like adults instead of having his date call their parents, who’ll call his mom, who’ll chew him about breaking poor Benfred’s heart.

He says his goodbyes to Olyvar and heads to his dorm, fully intending to call Sansa and have her expert opinion. She’ll know what to do, or at least she’ll have read a corny novel with a similar plot. Action plan set, Robb is in a slightly better mood when he turns the corner on his corridor and sees Benfred waiting at his door.

“Hey,” Robb says, face blank, when he’s standing in front of him.

“Hey, Robb,” Benfred says, scratching the back of his head and avoiding to look Robb in the eye. “How are you doing?”

“Busy. You’re blocking the door.”

Benfred flinches, but doesn’t move. He doesn’t look at Robb’s face either, though Robb’s sure he’s telegraphing his irritation broadly enough.

“I was passing by, and I thought, well… we didn’t let things off so good last time.”

“I know.” Robb rolls his eyes. “I paid your bill, in case you’re worried about that.”

Benfred finally looks up at him in surprise, and Robb gathers the matter hadn’t even crossed his mind. Asswipe. His ID is going into the trash, Robb decides.

“Thank you. Let me pay you back,” he says, making to go for his wallet, but Robb waves him off.

“It was just a couple stars.”

“If you say so… Well, I actually came here to apologize,” he says, avoiding Robb’s eyes again. “I shouldn’t have thrown beer at you. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Robb says, relieved. He even smiles a little, glad to leave the whole thing in the past.

Then Benfred goes on, growing bolder seeing his grin.

“So… there’s this art exhibit tomorrow night. I was wondering if you want to come with me, as friends?”

Robb must look like a fool, he thinks to himself. Only a complete fool would look at Benfred’s hopeful expression, at the very recent failed date and his long-lived crush and think that he means the “as friends” part of the deal.

Still, Robb grins broadens on his face.

“An art exhibit!”

“Yeah, I thought it’s a bit lame, but it had all these good reviews. I didn’t know you’d be so into it. Better than a pub, eh?” He smiles brightly at Robb. Even his smile is square, Robb notices. “So we’re going?”

Robb blinks, drawn back to reality.

“What? No, thanks, I’ve got a date tomorrow,” he says, mercilessly.

Benfred’s face falls, then his eyes narrow in the next heartbeat. Robb would be more intimidated if he didn’t know he can twist him like a pretzel if the need arises.

“Moving on fairly quickly, I see,” he spats. “Are you going to apologize for breaking a table on my head at least?”

“Wasn’t planning to,” Robb shrugs. “I’m not sorry about that.”

There’s nothing to throw this time. Robb watches, amused, as Benfred looks around, turning an unflattering shade of crimson. He’s taller than Robb, and larger, but he knows Robb’s temper enough not to try anything.

In the end, he simply walks away without another word.

Robb watches him go, wondering at what love and lust do to people. He can’t imagine himself acting that desperate, but soon he’s entering the room and leaving all thoughts of Benfred behind. He has a date to plan.  


* * *

  
Saturday night, Robb’s got this. He dresses nicely, shaves his beard from caveman to hipster-chic levels, and dabs some of the cologne Jon got him after showering. He even wears his fancy trainers.

Sansa would be proud.

On the way to the Foamdrinker, he picks up some flowers. Tulips, in red and pink, which were the last thing available at the shop, but isn’t it the thought that counts? He has no idea if Theon will like them, but he needs to look interested.

Dagmer snorts when he enter the pub.

“He’ll be ready in a minute.” There’s a sound of crashing and muffled shouts from the upper floor. Robb arches an eyebrow, suspicious, but Dagmer waves a hand dismissively. “His sister is helping him get ready.”

“Sounds like a fight to me,” Robb says.

He’s summarily ignored but for a pat on the stool next to the one Dagmer’s sitting on.

Robb sits, taking a look around. It’s early yet, but it feels too empty for a Saturday. Some employees are milling about, two men in suits are having a pint by the window. He can actually see to the other side of the building, which is nothing like it was on quiz night.

“I hope I didn’t scare away your clientele for good,” Robb grins.

He’s more prepared for Dagmer’s laughter this time, so he doesn’t jump quite as high.

“It’ll take more than a schoolboy fight to sink this ship,” he says easily. “It’s just that no one comes to the pub on Maidday. Not while there’s hope.”

“And when there isn’t?”

“We’ll be packed later tonight.” Dagmer grins.

For someone who is twisting his arm to get a date for his son, Dagmer is a good guy. He’s easy to talk to. They make small talk, and soon  he’s telling Robb all about his days as a captain on the navy fighting Lysene pirates off the coast of Braavos, followed by his time fishing Tuna for the Greyjoys, a brand so famous it needs no further explanation.

“Why did you quit?” Robb asks, entranced despite himself. It’s almost like watching a movie, hearing him talk.

Dagmer shrugs. “Fatherhood arrived for me.”

“I see,” Robb nods, playing with a tulip petal. Just like that, the mysterious Theon looms over them again. Well, mysterious for Robb. Dagmer knows him.

“Look, for real now,” he starts, pulling slightly at his collar. “You’ve put me in such a situation. I don’t want this date to be one more thing for anyone to regret, so how about you tell me what Theon’s like?”

The noise upstairs has lowered considerably, and it’s nearing 7:30. Robb knows Theon will be here any minute. Dagmer considers him for a moment, scratching at his bearded chin before answering.

“He’s very sensitive and calm. It doesn’t seem so, but he’s a shy kid. He likes poetry and music. And he’s so funny, but not to everyone’s taste, I guess,” he says, biting at his two lower lips in concentration. “Oh, and he’ll always ask for the plainest drinks, but he actually loves those monstrous caramel chai stuff.”

“Alright. Sensitive, funny. Fancy drinks. Okay.” Robb smiles. “I can work with that.”

Just them, they hear someone coming thumping down the stairs, and Dagmer points towards a narrow staircase to the far left of the bar. Robb gets up with his winning smile, smoothing his clothes quickly and holds the tulips up, not so low down his waist that it seems they’re an after-thought, not so close to his chest that he looks like he’s picking Theon up for prom.

He immediately drops them to the floor when Theon appears on the landing.

Robb can deal with sensitive and funny. He can deal with fancy drinks. He can’t deal with Theon’s fucking face, which might just be the most gorgeous face he’s ever seen outside of a movie theater.

All of him is gorgeous, in fact. His black hair with the single grey lock right at the front shine under the light. He’s put it up in a side braid that falls on his chest over his right shoulder, letting the green pocket square on the right side visible. His eyelashes are like a dark line of ink over smooth fair skin. He’s slim and tall with a narrow waist and broad shoulders; when he turns to check the mirror behind him, Robb notices he has a round bubble butt as well.

Dagmer coughs very pointedly while Robb stares, but it still takes a second for him to recover.

“He’s you son,” he finally says, beyond incredulous, not taking his eyes off Theon as he fixes something on his outfit. Robb couldn’t guess what to save his life. It all looks perfect to him. “Your son. Who takes after his father.”

“He’s adopted, didn’t I mention that?” Dagmer says. “Close your mouth, lad.”

Robb does close his mouth. He also quickly picks up the flowers, coming up so fast he swoons a little, but that may just be the fact that Theon is approaching in quick strides.

“Robb, right?” He smiles, close-mouthed but dimpled, a mischievous light in his dark eyes.

“Yes, please,” Robb sighs, then immediately wants to kick himself. His cheeks burns, he’s sure he must look like a tomato. He has a sudden, terrible feeling of kinship with Benfred, poor humiliated Benfred who made a fool of himself right at this very pub because he fancied someone.

Robb coughs into his hand, trying to recover.

“I mean, it’s nice to finally meet you,” he says, proud his voice doesn’t tremble. That’s what he’s been already reduced to already. He offers him the bouquet, feeling more ridiculous by the second, but ridiculously glad he has a chance to play the fool before this man. “These are for you.”

Theon has the grace to pretend he didn’t see Robb’s little dance with the flowers before. He accepts them with a more natural smile. Up close, he has little laughing lines around his eyes.

“A bold statement,” he comments, caressing the flower petals gently. He’s wearing gold rings in two of his fingers that cover them up to the nails painted black. “We’ll see if it holds true.”

“Give the boy a break, son, I doubt he has the language of flowers down to a science like you,” Dagmer says, patting Robb on the shoulder before taking the flowers that Theon surrenders reluctantly. “Here, I’ll put them on a vase for you, eh? Go and enjoy your date.”

He gives Theon a kiss on the forehead and a tight hug. Theon makes a show of rolling his eyes, but hugs back just as fiercely. They let go, Dagmer goes away with the bouquet, and Robb is left there, grinning like a dolt, to face Theon on his own.

Theon smile is more amused than happy, but Robb will take it.

“Shall we?”  


* * *

  
The way to the gallery is paved on successive false starts. Theon’s smile freezes as soon as Robb opens the car door to him. Instead of getting inside, he stands on the sidewalk, looking at Robb like a deer caught in headlights, clearly mulling over how to get out of it there and then.

“It’s a lovely evening,” Robb says, trying to sound casual. “I was planning to take you to the gallery, but maybe we could walk there?”

Theon nods quickly, so walk they do. Theon moves in a very careful, deliberate way, setting a slower pace than Robb would. Robb slows his own pace to match his. The journey that should take about 5 minutes by car lasts half an hour.

The whole way there, Theon turns heads. Robb can sympathize with the impulse to never ever stop looking at him once one’s started, but it annoys him all the same. A creepy hook-nosed woman even follows them for a couple of blocks until Robb gives her the stinky eye. The only looks Robb himself gets are of plain disbelief. Every stranger they pass on the street thinks it’s impossible that Robb pulled a man this beautiful. They’re correct. He’s never been more aware of his own plainness before.

He usually makes up for his lack of good-looks with his charming personality, but for that to shine he needs an engaged audience. That’s just… not happening. Turns out the one thing Dagmer was honest about was Theon’s shyness. Robb is trying, he is, but every time it seems like he’s finally putting Theon at ease, he jams his foot into his mouth. _Oh, is this kind of ring a new fashion trend? No, they’re prosthesis. I’m sorry, was it an accident? No, an ax-crazy ex. So what is it like growing up with a former captain? I didn’t, he adopted me at 15 when my father kicked me out. Did you get to study here at Kings Landing? No, I dropped out of secondary school._ To think he was worried about not making this date awkward enough.

The worst part, Robb thinks, is how Theon inevitably asks things back all shy and politely interested and Robb has boring, mundane, happy answers. Like he is bragging about his normal, drama-free life.

“So, what do you do for a living?” Robb changes the subject again, for what feels like the hundred time. Neutral topics, he reminds himself, neutral topics. He wants to give the guy a nice evening, not corner him.

If only Theon’s life wasn’t a goddamned mine-field.

“I’m on a sabbatical right now,” he says, and right when Robb is panicking he’s just rubbed the man’s unemployment on his face, he goes on. “I’ve been doing the same thing since I was 17, but I don’t think I can  anymore.”

“And what was it?” Robb asks, relieved. With the way Theon is acting while talking about it, playing with the end of his braid with a calm smile in a way that makes Robb’s fingers itch to do it for him, there can’t have been anything sinister about this job. “I bet it was something interesting. What did you do? Besides getting there and looking pretty?”

Theon snorts at that and bites his lips to keep from laughing.

“Yeah… I was a photography model.”

“Fuck. You.” Robb shakes his head, defeated. “I don’t know what is it about you, but I can’t talk to you like a normal person.”

Theon snorts again. “How is this my fault? Maybe everyone who talks to you leaves thinking they’ve talked to a potato.”

“It’s you!” Robb yells. “Your life is a fucking soap opera!”

That makes Theon laugh for real. A full belly laugh, ugly and too loud and frankly obnoxious. It warms Robb to his core. It’s nearly an out of body experience. He can practically see himself from above: smiling stupidly, face red as a tomato, falling so hard and sudden his chest aches from wonder and despair.

“You haven’t heard the half of it,” Theon says once he’s recovered some, wiping tears from his eyes. “But come on, now. You owe me a date and it’s just for tonight. The gallery is on the next block. You can do it.”

And just like that, they’re off again.

It might as well be a miracle.

 

* * *

 

“So you’re interested in Hoarian art?” Theon asks, walking slowly past the poster announcing the theme of the exhibition. It only took Robb humiliating himself for him to get over his shyness, or maybe he’s in his element among all the art pieces.

“At the risk of sounding stupid… no more than in any other type of art? I confess I’m not the most knowledgeable on the subject.”

Theon smiles. Robb can see on the curve of his lip that he’s already guessed “not the most knowledgeable” means “knows fuck all”.

“I had you pinned as a jock,” he says, “from what Dad told me. I imagined we were going to a sport bar or something.”

“Sorry to disappoint?” Robb snorts, amused despite himself. “Give me some points for wanting to learn at least.”

“You’re asking for a lecture with that attitude.” Theon arches an eyebrow.

Robb waves a hand in invitation.

Instantly, some of Theon’s shyness returns. He clears his throat twice, but starts talking as they approach the nearest painting.

“Black Harren was the last ironborn king in the Riverlands. He built Harrenhal, which the Targaryens later stormed… but the castle was too great to be fully destroyed, even with whatever technology they had brought from Essos with them, so most of it remained intact after the Hoare lineage had been wiped out, and many art pieces survived.”

“For a long time, no one knew it was any different from any other riverlander art from the period… you see, the ironborn are not big on depictive art.” As they make it to the painting, dubbed Harren, the Mighty, he stays quiet for a moment, just looking at it. It’s an impressive painting even to Robb’s untrained eye. Something about it makes it look like the man painted is trapped on the canvas, waiting for the opportunity to come alive and do things both great and terrible. “Most of those are probably from riverlander artists, though most of their identities is lost to time, but some are from artists that descended from the ironborn. They learned the techniques from the riverlanders, but there is no learning just what you intend to, the exchange of values is unavoidable.”

“So the ironborn adopted the culture from the riverlanders?” Robb asks softly.

It’s an interesting topic, especially with the paintings right there to illustrate what Theon is explaining. If he’s being completely honest, though, he’s more interested in the way Theon’s voice fills with enthusiasm talking about the subject, on the way his eyes crinkle at the corners with quiet satisfaction. He might as well be talking about the citric acid cycle, for all Robb cares.

“The artists did, at least. Of course it’s not one-sided, but I think the ramifications are more easily noticeable for the ironborn. We were quite insulated, despite being seafarers. The Hoarian art is the only ironborn art to ever depict the Drowned God.”

Sure enough, as they walk together down the corridors, they come across such a painting.

‘Come across’ is generous phrasing, actually. When Theon glimpses that painting at the opposite direction they’re going, he immediately grabs Robb by the hand and all but drags him to stand before it, walking at such a quick pace that Robb nearly stumbles.

Theon has talked a lot about things Robb doesn’t really get, like the use of light and shadows, the significance of color and composition, but it seems like he has been containing himself for his sake so far. When they get to the painting dubbed Watery Hall, he actually stays a full minute quiet, just staring at it, holding onto Robb’s hand like a life-line, with eyes full of emotion.

Robb doesn’t dare move, not even to squeeze his hand back.

“Do you see how his face is hidden?” Theon whispers. “It is taboo to depict him at all, but the riverlanders always had painted and sculpted the Seven. The ironborn artists learned to do the same, but they didn’t paint his face.”

“I don’t see why it’s a taboo?” Robb whispers back. The painting is the largest they’ve seen so far in the gallery and extremely detailed. It seems like every sea creature known at the time is paying homage before a man sitting in a throne of carved wood richly decorated with pearls. Though his face is hidden, the god is too lovingly illustrated to be anything but beautiful. The artist is skilled; more than that, the painting is a labor of love. “It’s just another form of worship?”

“Who is being worshiped?” Theon smirks, still looking at the painting.

“I suppose if you’re asking, the obvious answer is wrong,” Robb says.

“If you depict a god in human form, aren’t you making it human and thus less?”

“I worship trees and forests.” Robb smiles at the wonder in Theon’s eyes. He looks back at the canvas in front of him too, but can see nothing but paint. “I hardly think I’m qualified to answer this question.”

Theon laughs, then finally turns away from the painting to look at Robb.

“It’s a sin to make a god human in any way, but I think it’s the best thing those artists ever did. Because it works the other way around, too. If a god can be human, then surely we must contain something divine as well. And when we need it, we might find it within.”

Robb squeezes his hand back then, painfully aware of the prosthesis resting besides flesh and bone.

“Maybe you could become an art history teacher if you don’t want to be a model anymore. You’d be wonderful.”

That makes Theon laugh even harder than before. People around look at them, scandalized, but Robb is grinning. His heart is beating so fast it drowns the whispers and censure about them completely.

“As long as my students only need to learn about what I like and don’t ever disagree with me ever, yes, I’d be marvelous.”

“You’ve won me over.” Robb smiles, intertwining their fingers together, amazed that Theon lets him. “And I don’t even like art.”

“Now that’s a lie,” Theon says, walking away from the painting even slower than before, taking Robb with him. “You might not be into Hoarian art or paintings, but you must have something that touches your heart. We’re wired as a species to crave art.”

“I suppose I’m fond of movies,” Robb says, letting himself be guided to a bench on a side-corridor.

Theon sits down carefully, then stretches his legs. He grimaces, but makes an effort to engage Robb as soon as he sits by his side.

“What sort of movies do you like?” He asks. He’s still smiling, but beads of sweat are dropping from his temple.

Robb is about to offer to get him some water, or even to call him a cab, though that would mean the end of the date, but then he spots her at the end of the hallway.

“So, don’t freak out,” he starts, making Theon sit straighter, immediately on high alert. Robb could slap himself. “There’s a woman following us. I thought maybe she was just going the same way we were, but she’s here now and watching us.”

“What does she look like?” Theon asks, but goes on before Robb can describe her. “Tall, hook nose, cut her hair using a cereal bowl? Dressed like a hobo?”

Robb nods, surprised.

“Everyone here looks under-dressed next to you, but yes.”

Theon rolls his eyes, but he’s blushing. “Yeah, that’s my sister. Please, just… just ignore her. Let her do her thing? I can’t outrun her, and you’re doing so well! No one has heard me rambling about art… or about anything, really... for so long without running away before.”

“I’m not planning on running away,” Robb says, frowning a little when Theon snorts. “I’m serious!”

“Look, I don’t know how he did it, but I know my Dad put you up to this. I’m not an idiot.” He slumps against the wall and talks to the ceiling, and he’s not blushing anymore, but the slope of his mouth is so embarrassed that Robb wants to rub it away. “He can’t accept I’m changing my slutty ways, so he’s been trying to set me up for months, but… I’ve had a good time, and you’re cute, so that’s fine by me. I don’t need anything more. But don’t you dare lie to my face, I’ll call my sister and she’ll beat you up.”

“I’d like to see her try.” Robb snorts. “It’s true that he set us up, but does that need to be a bad thing? I’m impressed you aren’t running away from me.”

“Sure.”

“I’m having fun,” Robb insists. He gulps, trying to gather his nerves. The sister is pretending to look at some painting, but she’s also inching closer to them. He might as well go for it. “I’ll take you to the movies on our next date, and I’ll talk your ear off. I’ll even buy your sister a ticket so she can chaperon us to her heart’s content. Then you’ll see that I want to go out with you for real.”

Theon shrugs and goes back to playing with his hair, but he’s smiling a little. Robb sits on his hands and waits for an answer, watching him.

“Well, isn’t that presumptuous of you? To take the second date for granted like that when we aren’t even done with this one yet?”

Robb grins so wide his cheeks hurt.

“Will you go out with me again?”

“I suppose I will,” he says, smirking. “As long as we don’t have to go to a sports bar.”

“I’ll make sure.” Robb promises, crossing his fingers and kissing them twice.

“Let’s go see the other paintings now, before Asha catches up to us.”

Sure enough, when Robb looks, Theon’s sister is just a few feet away. When Robb waves at her, she gives him a sharp grin and waves back.

“Menace,” Theon says, refusing to look at her. He gets up and takes Robb by the arm to the other pieces, avoiding her the rest of the night.

 

* * *

 

They look at the other paintings with their arms linked. Robb is now fated to always remember Hoarian art fondly, because his blood is singing inside his veins as Theon leans in to whisper about them on his ear, leaving a trail of sandalwood perfume in his wake. He even nods eagerly each time Robb has a dumb opinion. He never wants this night to end.

It does end. They eventually walk out of the gallery and start their journey back.

“Would you like to take a cab? We can call your sister,” Robb offers. Not only is Theon’s pace much slower than before, but he seems to be struggling. Robb doesn’t mind, really, and he isn’t about to point it out, but Theon is also actively using his arm for support now.

“If you don’t mind it?” The relief is plain on his voice.

Robb calls a cab. He also buys ice-cream from the ice-cream truck parked on the next block and they settle on a nearby park bench to wait.Theon accepts his with a smile and rolls his eyes when his sister approaches to take hers, sitting by his other side.

“Did you enjoy the exhibition?” He asks, voice dripping acid.

“I suppose it was okay,” she shrugs, taking a bite of the ice-cream, like a fucking terror. Robb has to evaluate his former assertion that he could take this woman in a fight. “Did you see that maniac that painted the Drowned God? Riverlanders, man.”

Theon rolls his eyes. He’s eating his ice-cream in small kitten licks, very dainty, very delicate. When he notices Robb watching, he gives it an obscenely long lick before sucking the whole thing in his mouth and letting the sweet stain his lips white on the way out.

Robb is so busy telling himself not to watch, eyes glued to Theon, ice-cream melting on his hand, that he nearly misses the sister calling him.

“Yeah,” he says. It’s the hardest thing in the world to turn his gaze away, but he still does it in time to see her rolling her eyes too.

For a second, the family resemblance is uncanny. Robb would feel worse – he does have younger siblings who won’t ever have sex, thank you very much – if Theon wasn’t so deliberately teasing him.

“I said, when are you lovebirds seeing each other next?” She asks; then she grins broadly and winks at Robb. “I’m free next Friday.”

“Asha!” Theon protests, indignant.

Robb just smiles, as friendly as he can. There’s a good chance she will be present for real on their next date, so he might as well try to win her over.

“I’m busy next Friday. Night class.” Then he turns to Theon and if his smile is more genuine, he’s only human. “I’ll call you.”

They exchange numbers and soon after the cab arrives. Robb throws the ice-cream away, since it’s all but wholly gone, and has his revenge licking his fingers clean under Theon’s gaze. He can’t believe this is not a fever dream and Theon is really turned on because of him, but sure enough he crosses his legs and wipes the corner of Robb’s mouth, sucking the ice-cream from his own thumb while Asha chats away with the driver at the front of the car.

But the drive is painfully short. Soon they’re all getting out in front of the Foamdrinker.

Like Dagmer promised, it’s packed to bursting. Robb knows he’ll lose Theon as soon as they get inside. He is turning to him before that can happen, intending to say goodbye, when Dagmer gets out of the pub, sporting his hideous grin.

“20 to midnight, not bad, boy,” he cheers, waving a hand in greeting.

Robb waves back and waits. Theon turns to them as well, expectantly, but neither his Dad nor Asha make to enter the building, not even when Theon discreetly shoos them away.

Well, no way Robb won’t say his piece just because he’s got an audience.

“I had a good time tonight,” he says.

Theon starts playing with his hair again, cheeks going the faintest of pinks.

“Me too,” he says, voice very small. “Remember what I said earlier? About you taking me out? It’s still true, so if you start having second thoughts...”

Robb shouldn’t find it endearing, but he’s all but melting in a puddle, worse than any ice-cream. His hands are itching to play with Theon’s hair for him, to settle on his waist and pull him close.

“I’m calling you. Tomorrow.”

Theon bites his lips but nods. They say their goodbyes and Robb stumbles to the driver’s door. It’s like he has no control over his own body; each two steps he turns to look at Theon, inordinately pleased to find him watching him back with an amused but soft smile.

He’s about to get inside when Dagmer clears his throat loudly.

“Aren’t you forgetting something, lad?”

The look Theon gives him is brief, but so hopeful that all doubt evaporates. Robb jumps over the hood of the car, sliding the last few inches, to reach Theon and takes his face in his hands.

The kiss is chaste, close-mouthed, but Robb could take flight when Theon hugs his neck and kisses back. His lips are soft and sticky with sweetness. He smells even more like sandalwood this close, a persistent, involving scent that erases the rest of the world around them. When Theon sighs into the kiss, Robb opens his mouth just a little, just to lick the seam of his mouth.

They separate for air and Robb nearly goes in for another kiss when Theon bites his lower lips, looking at him with blown pupils, but someone – maybe Dagmer, maybe Asha, but who even cares? – clears their throat again.

“I actually meant your ID,” Dagmer says.

“Oh!” Robb says, separating from Theon just a little. “I had actually forgotten about that!”

“I didn’t notice,” Dagmer deadpans.

“Never mind him. I’ll talk to you tomorrow?” Theon asks, fingers still linked behind Robb’s neck, a thumb rubbing at the base of his hair and driving Robb out of his mind.

He is powerless to do anything but smile at him.

“Tomorrow,” he promises.

In the end, when Dagmer finally puts him inside his car, he forgets the ID again.

 

* * *

 

Maybe Robb is just over-confident. Maybe it’s the first child syndrome making him believe he can have all he wants ever. For whatever reason, he just believes whole-heartily that Theon is falling as helplessly in love as he is.

The movie date is not what would be called a success in the traditional sense. They go out on a Saturday again, and since Asha is not available, she sends her boyfriend and the guy she’s stringing along, according to Theon, in her place. They don’t like each other, but apparently Asha’s word is law. Robb ends the movie with more than a bucket worth of greasy popcorn tangled in his hair from his attempts to kiss Theon in the dark theater.

However, it is a success in that it convinces Theon that Robb actually wants to date him. Be it the fact that Robb put up with their nannies, or that he protected Theon’s hair from their attacks, by the end of the movie, Theon even deigns to enter his car. That makes it easier to ditch their babysitters, and eventually Asha is convinced to just say her goodbyes when Robb picks Theon up and drops him off.

Robb has hooked up with people on a semi-regular basis before, even had a summer boyfriend, but the wave of emotions Theon causes on him are new. Or rather, the intensity of them is new, unexpected and almost frightening. Between uni, work, and life in general, they go a full week sometimes between meetings and it leaves Robb both starving and aching. It’s like nothing he’s ever experienced before.

When they hit the six-month mark, he calls Sansa. He can’t, doesn’t want to, keep it a secret.

“You’re going to love this,” he says as soon as they’re done with hellos. It’s more than he can bear to contain himself any more. “Sansa, I’m in love.”

Usually, Sansa is the one sibling he has who can be counted on to not be dramatic. She prides herself on always being modest and tactful. Even when she doesn’t succeed in that, she has remarkable control over her own emotions and a tendency to be quiet. But something on Robb’s voice must give away how serious he is, because she lets out a shriek so loud he needs to take the phone off of his ear.

“When did this happen? How? _Who_?” She asks, getting properly excited. Robb can imagine her jumping to kneel on her bed even as he does the same at his dorm.

He gives her all the story, all the details his friends are sick of hearing. How the light caught Theon’s hair just so when they went to the natural history museum. How Theon laughed so hard at one of Robb’s jokes that he snorted his drink out of his nose even though he’s the funny one. How he’s always there cheering for Robb on all his games and sometimes his practices even though he hates sports. He tells her how Theon is the most amazing, sensitive, funny, beautiful person he has ever met at least five times, so much that even romance-loving Sansa begs for a break.

“He sounds special. When do we get to meet him?” She asks, clearly thinking the same as Robb.

“I’ll ask him to come with me to Winterfell for winter break,” Robb says, dropping on his back to watch the ceiling with a silly smile. Every time he imagines Theon at his childhood home, he ends up like this. “I don’t know if he’ll say yes, but I can’t go that long without seeing him. I’m sort of stalling.”

“Robb, you told him you love him, what is the big deal? Just ask him and I’ll get everyone ready here.”

He gulps, hoping it’s not audible on the other side of the line.

“Well, you see… I haven’t really told him. We’re taking things slow.”

“What’s his full name again?”

The change of subject is abrupt. Robb frowns a little, caught off-guard, but he’s glad he doesn’t have to explain that particular knot to his sister.

“Sansa… you’re not going to use Dad’s contacts to snoop on his life, right?”

“Of course not! King’s Landing has made you paranoid, honestly!”

She sounds so outraged that Robb relaxes a little. He can count on his oldest sister to be on his side and warm up to his boyfriend before the rest of the family. She won’t be interested if he has the ability to give Robb biological children, or if he comes from a good family. She’ll only care that he makes Robb happy.

“Theon Greyjoy. Like the fishing brand.”

“Like the brand or _from_ the brand? Does he not have any social media?” Sansa asks.

It’s innocent enough, but Robb realizes his mistake. She is not the kind to breach anyone’s privacy through political contacts, but she’s not against looking people up online. And he knows exactly what Sansa will find because he had done the same thing.

“Sansa, wait a minute!”

The way she starts to giggle madly is enough of a sign. It’s too late.

“You’re dating an underwear model!”

Robb roll his eyes. His cheeks start to burn and he’s suddenly glad they’re so many miles apart.

“He did other things too!” He says.

He doesn’t mean to sound defensive; there’s nothing to be defensive about. Theon has done nothing wrong. But Robb has seen those pictures, has seen how little they leave to the imagination. If the gods are good, no one will ever find out exactly how long he’s spent looking at them while jerking off, and at that video… It’s weird to know his little sister has seen them as well.

“Yes, I’ve found one of his perfume ads. Sorry, I can never unsee that.”

They end the call soon after, with Robb feeling a little cross and a lot guilty. Robb can’t unsee those images either. It feels like a betrayal, like a violation of trust even though everything is online for anyone to see. He shouldn’t have looked for them, he shouldn’t keep looking for them and imagining sliding Theon’s trunks down his hips while Theon sits on his lap on the beach or similar scenarios.

But fuck, he’s only flesh and blood. Dating Theon has left him acutely aware of that.

 

* * *

 

It wouldn’t matter so much if he and Theon were having sex, if he had permission to look at his body like that.

Robb wants to. Gods, does he want to. He’s never gotten such a strong case of the blue balls in his life, not even when he was a teenage ready to hump nearly anything that would stay still long enough. And Theon wants to as well. Or at least, his body wants to. But every time things start to go in that direction, that Robb tries to go beyond some heavy petting, Theon suddenly remembers a pressing commitment on the other side of town, or that he left his oven on, or in a memorable occasion, that all condoms in a three block radius were expired. When Robb had offered one of his own, Theon had managed to break it before Robb had unbuckled his belt.

So Robb is half dreading, half anticipating what excuse Theon will make this time. If nothing else, they’re highly creative, but a part of him is still hoping. He’d hope in any case, but today Theon is especially... needy.

He was the one to initiate it this time, for once, from asking Robb out to inviting himself to his dorm and jumping him. And he’s the one rubbing himself on Robb’s thigh like a cat in heat while palming Robb’s cock. When Robb grabs his ass, filling his hands and making him set a slower pace, he keens high on his throat, loud enough that Robb’s neighbor punches the wall and yells at them.

“Keep it down, man!”

“Sorry!” Robb tries to yell back, but his voice sounds suspiciously tremulous.

Theon gives him a devilish smile and grinds harder on his leg. He’s already a couple of inches taller and the position leaves him taller still, so Robb grabs him by the back of his neck to pull him down and whisper inside his ear, trailing kisses and bites from his neck to the lobe.

“I’m going to start thinking you like scandalizing my dormmates if you keep being this loud,” he says, dragging his beard on the curve of Theon’s jaw just to watch him shiver.

“Maybe you should keep my mouth busy,” he moans, closing his eyes, dirty smile still in place.

Robb pulls him into a devouring kiss, licking inside his mouth until they’re both breathless. Then he bites his lower lip just so and Theon groans again, too loud.

The punches on the wall sound angrier now. They start laughing and the neighbor answers with loud, horrendous music. It sounds like a computer is trying to imitate a hungry calf to Robb. They laugh even harder.

The song is a mood killer if there has ever been one, but Robb is going through a dry spell while dating the most beautiful man he’s ever met, so there is no way he can say no when Theon purrs in his ear:

“This is on you. I told you to keep my mouth busy.” He pops the button of Robb’s pants open, sliding a warm, soft hand inside his underwear.

There’s no need for a clearer invitation. Robb holds Theon’s hand in place, making him grip tighter while he sucks his neck purple and red. Then he displaces Theon to the bed and gets up to pull his pants down and kick them to the other side of the room. He’s too aroused to care if he’s being over-eager or ridiculous. Theon doesn’t seem to think so. He gives Robb a heated look and doesn’t even wait for him to take off the rest of his clothes; he kneels before him on the floor and sucks Robb’s cock over his underwear, pulling him close by the sides of his open shirt.

Robb lets him until the cloth is wet and see through. Then he pulls him off by the hair and pulls the briefs down with a sigh.

“Condom?”

“No,” Theon says and goes back to sucking on bare flesh this time.

He nearly swallows Robb’s cock fully, hollowing his cheeks and moaning like he’s the one being pleasured. It’s all Robb can do to not fuck his mouth. He stays still, letting Theon set his own slow, torturous pace while he pets his hair, his ears, his brow even as he thinks of jerking his cock instead.

When he pulls off to suck his balls, Robb takes two steps back, getting out of his reach. Sure, he’s been waiting for this moment for six months, but he’ll die from embarrassment if he comes in five minutes.

“Bed, on your back,” he rasps.

Theon rushes to obey. As Robb comes closer, he licks his lips and opens his wet, red mouth invitingly. His pupils are blown as he watches Robb discard shirt and underwear; his hand palm his own cock over his tented pants.

He frowns a little when Robb lays by his side, but accepts the kiss eagerly, just as he accepts Robb’s hand traveling over his chest and thighs, his stomach, finally stopping to squeeze his cock under his hand. He moans again, a sound that Robb swallows on his mouth.

“Can I? Like this?” And he slips the hand inside Theon’s pants.

It’s more than they have done before, but Theon nods, eyes closed and lips parted in an unrestricted groan. The music from the room next to them gets louder. Robb doesn’t care, can barely register it; Theon starts laughing again, but it turns into another moan when Robb pulls his underwear down just enough to stroke naked, soft skin.

“Look at you, love, you’re so fucking gorgeous,” he says, kissing his face sweetly, chastely, his cheeks then his chin, biting lightly just on the corner of his lips. “Even your cock is pretty, all pink and hard like that. Does it taste good as well? Should I try it?”

“Yes, yes, please,” he says, canting his hips up when Robb stops caressing him.

Robb smiles into his hair, letting the scent of sandalwood involve him. He’s about to answer, to say Theon needs only to ask, when Theon freezes under his touch. His breath goes shallow all of sudden. He only moves to grasp Robb’s hand where it has moved to his stomach, under his shirt, and stop his progress with a forceful grip.

“Robb… I just remembered–”

“No, you didn’t. You know, if I had lower self-esteem, I’d be wondering if you want to be here at all,” Robb cuts him off sharply, voice rising with frustration, then regrets it instantly when Theon’s eyes go round and fearful. “Sorry, love. If you want to stop, just tell me and I’ll stop. You don’t need to make excuses.”

He takes the hand holding his to his lips and kisses it. Theon starts to relax some; Robb can see he’s still hard, but he doesn’t want to insist.

“Should I put clothes on?”

Theon rolls to his side, facing Robb with a look of uncertainty.

“Would you mind… I really want to suck you off.” His voice is a purr, low and seductive, as he swings a leg over Robb’s waist and pulls him closer. “You’ve been driving me up the wall for months now.”

“You’re one to talk.” He snorts. But he lets Theon trail kisses down his chest and belly until he finally reaches his cock again. He hasn’t softened at all during their discussion; he might cry if Theon decides he has to go water his plants or something.

He doesn’t stop at all this time. He sucks the head, the balls, then licks at the big vein on the side like he’s never tasted anything better. He looks up at Robb with dark, mischievous eyes as he rubs his taint and then brushes his hole lightly. Robb strokes his face, from the sweaty temple to the hollow cheeks, hooking a thumb on his lower lips and making him open wider.

As soon as Robb starts fucking his mouth, Theon starts moaning and rubbing himself on the bed. He comes inside his pants seconds before Robb does, leaving a trail of jizz from his mouth to his chin.

They lay still for a moment, recovering their breaths, Robb petting Theon’s hair.

“I have wet towels, if you don’t want to face the rest of the floor yet.”

“Gimme here. I might have made a mess.” Theon admits, but he doesn’t sound worried in the least. He climbs up to Robb and accepts the wipes. When he’s done, he throws them into the little trash can on Robb’s desk still laying down on the bed and gives Robb a smug smile when they land perfectly.

“I have other talents.” Robb grins at him.

“I noticed,” he says, smirking. “And I appreciate them.”

“It could be even better, if you let me touch you,” Robb points out, sighing when Theon’s face closes off. “Don’t pout at me, I just want to know where we stand. Is that too much to ask?”

“You could have let me have two minutes of afterglow.” Theon crosses his arms. “What if I never want to take my clothes off?”

To be honest, that’s a lot better than what Robb had been expecting, which was complete avoidance and a refusal to even discuss the issue, possibly another six months of mounting sexual tension culminating into desperate sex, wash, rinse, and repeat forever.

“Then you’ll never take them off. And you don’t want me touching you under them either, right?” He asks, just to be sure. If Theon’s reaction earlier – and other times as well, now that Robb thinks back to it, it seems obvious – is any sign, he already knows the answer.

Theon surprises him.

“I want to, but...” He sighs, crosses his arms over his eyes, hiding from Robb even more, even though he’s fully clothed but for the prosthesis, and Robb is naked. “I’m ashamed.”

“You know you have nothing to be embarrassed about, right?” Robb says, baffled.

He doesn’t mean to sound... dismissive, or like he’s not taking Theon seriously. But Theon must know what he looks like. He has to. People, random people, treat him differently when they go out together, on account of how hot he is. It’s ridiculous that he doesn’t realize it.

Apparently he truly doesn’t, because he lowers his arms to glare at Robb.

“You don’t know that! You haven’t seen it!”

“Alright, maybe it’s not the best time to say this, but yes I have.” Robb clear his throat just to have some time to think. Theon is frowning now, glare slowly being replaced by something almost like dread. “So when we first started going out, I wanted to add you on my social media… I didn’t find any, but–”

“You found my swimming suit campaign,” he concludes, correctly.

Robb nods. The confession doesn’t feel good at all. Guilty overwhelms him, cutting deeply when Theon barks a laugh that sounds like a sob and sits on the bed, hugging his legs to his chest.

“I’m sorry! Look, that doesn’t change anything!” He nearly yells, getting up as well to sit in front of Theon, rubbing his wrists soothingly. His next door neighbor decides that is the right moment to lower the music, the bastard, so he whispers the next words. “If you don’t want me to see you naked in the flesh, then I won’t. You don’t have to show me. I promise.”

“I don’t look like that anymore,” Theon says, voice small and defeated.

“I know,” Robb says. He has eyes after all. The Theon in front of him has grey on his hair though he’s still in his twenties; he has missing fingers on his hands and maybe his feet, a fake tooth on the back of his mouth. But he’s real and breathing. Robb loves him so much that sometimes he doesn’t know what to do with himself. He’d never exchange him for the Theon in the photograph, younger, unhurt and brushed up in a computer. “I don’t care.”

Theon snorts, but Robb can see he doesn’t believe it. Still, he stretches his arms and plays with the lock of hair falling over Robb’s eyes.

“Put some clothes on and let’s go eat something?” He asks.

That’s enough for now, Robb decides. Theon will see, in time.

 

* * *

 

“I still can’t believe it’s so warm inside!” Theon wonders, incredulous, for the fifth time.

Robb smiles to himself and takes a sip of his mulled wine. It’s one thing to know on an intellectual level how hot springs work, another to experience a whole town built on top of them for the first time. Theon has traveled a lot, both for his model job and before, when it was expected that he would work for the family company, but he’s never been this far north. Robb is delighted to be the one to introduce him to it.

Outside, the wind is cutting. Snow falls in a harsh and beautiful dance, turning the world grey and white. It only makes it better that they’re dry and warm, sharing an armchair inside this cozy little cafe. All told, it’s a fairly mild winter; they haven’t had any ice storms and the cold sun has been helping to defrost the streets well enough during the six hours it stays up. Robb hasn’t been guilted into cleaning the driveway yet, leaving the brunt of the work for the kids who haven’t left the house to study. Perks of being the prodigal son.

But maintaining his status as a visiting party is a delicate balance, so today he’s made himself unavailable by spending the day downtown with his boyfriend.

The official excuse, which is also the truth, is that Theon needed new clothes. Though he’s brought two suitcases, everything was bought blindly in the south, a place that never fails to underestimate northern winters. It’s like the phrase summer snows means nothing to them. Theon has been wearing Robb’s older clothes these last few days, to Robb’s secret pleasure, but this morning he had finally decided that enough is enough.

So the first half of the day has been lost to shopping. A cruel ordeal in Robb’s opinion, especially because Theon has very specific opinions and tastes, but worth it in the end to spend what is left of daylight slacking off and drinking. Now that Theon has taken off his new furs, the green silk of his shirt folds like water running over the contours of his body. The style is distinctly northern, even if the material is not, and Theon looks like he belongs, more so than Robb with his riverlander appearance. More than one well-meaning person has asked if he’s from the Stony Shore or maybe Cape Kraken? People there usually have those dark looks.

Robb is beyond relaxed and sort of sleepy. The cafe is toasty warm. They’re cuddling near the fire, cups in hand, and Theon has slung a leg over his lap. He has also put his hair up, leaving a long expanse of neck bare to be kissed if Robb just leans over slightly, which he does every once in a while, making Theon sigh and struggle to contain his giggles when Robb’s beard tickles him.

He knows better than to do anything more in Winterfell, where nearly everyone knows the governor’s family on sight. He won’t risk being caught with his hands down Theon’s pants; even so, everyone can see they’re a couple and that gives him an inexplicable thrill. There is a waitress that has been checking Theon out since they walked in and Robb takes a wicked pleasure in kissing and caressing him when he knows she’s looking.

Even so, she brings him a “complementary” pastry out of nowhere.

“Funny,” Robb says as soon as she’s gone back behind the counter, to make eyes at his boyfriend some more, no doubt. “I’ve been coming here since I was fifteen, and I’ve never gotten anything for free.”

“You hanged out at a cafe when you were fifteen?” Theon snorts and then takes a bite of his slice of cake. “What a wild teen you must have been.”

“Rebelling gets old fast in the cold,” he says. “Mostly we came to skip class and hog the bean chairs at the back.”

“Here.” Theon smiles, offering Robb a bit of cake on his fork. “Don’t say I’ve never given you anything.”

They share the cake. Robb wants to not like it on principle, but it’s delicious and he ends up eating most of it. Theon smirks at him like he knows exactly what he’s thinking, but chooses to let it go.

They’re like that, acting like one of those disgustingly saccharine couples Robb used to judge so harshly, when Benfred walks into the cafe.

Robb doesn’t seen him at first. When he does see him on the corner of his eye, he ignores him. They haven’t talked since Robb refused to apologize, which was followed by another call from Mom to tell him he should me more gentle about other people’s feelings. Privately, he thinks that’s how you get a Littlefinger situation, but he had to swallow that back together with her advice on how to treat pushy suitors, a lecture he had never envisioned ever getting from his mother. All in all, he doesn’t have a lot of patience for Benfred nowadays.

But it seems Benfred has patience for him, because he starts walking purposefully towards them. The annoyed groan Robb lets on is nearly imperceptible, but Theon has his cheek resting on his chest, so not only does he catch it, he lifts his head with an inquiring eyebrow arched.

There’s no time to explain anything. Before Robb can open his mouth, Benfred in on them.

“Hey, Robb!” He greets with a big square smile directed solely at him. “I didn’t know you were back already!”

“Hi, Benfred,” Robb says, trying to mask his lack of enthusiasm.

“Hi, Benfred!” Theon says, sliding his other leg over Robb’s lap.

Turnabout is fair play, Robb thinks with a smile, squeezing his knee. Everywhere they go, people usually ignore him to hit on Theon. Let him have a taste of it, even if it means having to put up with Benfred some more.

“Ben, have you met my boyfriend, Theon? Theon, this is Benfred, from college.”

“And also from school,” he smiles at Theon now, though it looks plastic, offering a hand. “Robb and I go way back, if you catch my drift.”

“If you mean the past belongs in the past, then I do.” Theon smiles, shaking the offered hand. When it goes on longer than necessary, he says: “Do you mind? No amount of squeezing my fingers will stop me from giving him a handjob later, so you might as well let go.”

Benfred actually gapes at him in incredulity and lets go as if scalded. He looks at Robb with a face that screams _did you hear what he said_ and _are you going to let him talk to me like that_ all packed into a single squarely tilt of the eyebrow, but Robb is too busy choking on his wine.

Theon gives his back little pats until he’s better, after which Robb starts to laugh uncontrollably.

Though Benfred is a worrying shade of red by now, he doesn’t take the hint to go away, sitting instead at the armchair opposing theirs.

“You can have him, if you don’t mind getting my rejects.”

“I don’t. Glad we had this chat,” Theon says, rubbing circles on Robb’s back.

Robb rolls his eyes. He’s not even surprised Benfred would put it like that, just plain annoyed. But not too annoyed, as it gives him reason to go away and hopefully cash in on that handjob.

“Well, we were about to go anyway, so bye.”

They get up, but so does Benfred.

“Actually, the guys are planning to go skiing on The Liddle this weekend… Umber’s probably going to call you soon, but since we’ve met, consider yourself invited.”

“I don’t think we’ll be able to make it, but–” Robb starts, trying to be delicate. If Mom gets another call about Benfred because of him, she might sit him down in the flesh to talk about it.

Benfred saves him from coming up with something, in the worst way possible.

“He’s not invited,” he bites out, cutting him off.

Robb clenches his fists to not hit him. Theon pauses where he is getting their coats and gives Benfred a disdainful smirk.

“What do you think is going to happen if I’m not there, boxfish? That he’ll suddenly change his mind and you’ll have a chance? Because in this case you should be praying for a brain injury, not for my absence.”

Robb should probably say something about not wanting to hang out with people who will go out of the way to make his significant other – who he invited North to spend more time with in the first place – feel unwelcome, or to tell Benfred again, for the hundredth time, that the answer is no. But he’s floored by the realization Theon’s words bring to light.

“A boxfish. That’s what you remind me of,” he marvels aloud.

“Robb, let’s go.” Theon gets him by the hand and shields him when they go past Benfred.

“What the fuck did you call me?!” Benfred says, reaching for Theon so fast they can barely react.

At first Robb thinks he means to grab him by the shoulder and turn him around forcefully, so he hugs Theon by the front of his waist and tries to pull him closer. Only Benfred grabs him by the shirt instead and pulls back with all his strength, trying to make Theon stagger backwards. Robb manages to keep Theon standing and pushes Benfred with his free hand. He falls on his ass, losing the grip on the fabric.

The shirt itself survives the encounter, but not the buttons. They pop around, clattering on the floor even as the shirt opens at the front and pools around his bent elbows, leaving his chest and back exposed.

Theon’s face is a storm about to fall. He half turns around, no doubt meaning to give Benfred the verbal lashing of a lifetime for ruining his clothes, but his expression changes when he sees the shock on his face.

Robb lets himself look too. Theon’s body is a patchwork of scar tissue and discolored skin crisscrossing over a too thin frame. A wave of fury washes over him until everything in his line of sight is tinted red.

Someone did this to Theon. Someone _hurt_ him.

He had known before, had been told, had seen the stubs of his fingers and the wariness around his eyes. But this changes things somehow. It makes everything real.

He wants to hit something. Benfred is an easy target and guilty besides, though not of that. It doesn’t matter. Robb would love nothing more than to break his stupid square face in pieces, to make him swallow those pitying looks and the apologies pouring from him.

But Theon whimpers, a nearly inaudible sound that nevertheless echoes like a scream and that’s enough to bring him back to the immediate reality.

“Theon, listen, it’s okay...”

Robb means to comfort him, but as soon as he touches his shoulder, Theon startles and looks at him with round, panicking eyes. He takes one, two, three steps away from Robb, pushing his hands away, then turns around and runs from the cafe.

 

* * *

 

He makes it to the end of the next block before Robb catches up, wraps him in his coat and drags him back to his car. It would be impressive if it wasn’t so goddamn stupid.

Theon is shivering, teeth chattering uncontrollably. His fingertips are turning blue. His _lips_ are turning blue. His hair is wet and half-frozen from the snow. He’s blinking away tears.

Robb cranks up the heater as far as it will go.

The way back to the house is done in sepulchral silence, but only because he’s afraid Theon might jump out of a moving vehicle if he says something. If that happens, Robb decides, he’s turning around and strangling Benfred with his own intestines.

They are already in the Stark grounds when he finally dares to speak, trying and failing to sound like he’s not giving orders: “When we get to the house, you need to dry up, change clothes and get into bed. I have an electric blanket in the wardrobe, I’ll get it for you.”

Theon nods, silent. When they park, he rushes inside to do just that, to the point he leaves Robb to eat his snowy dust in the driveway.

The shopping bags can wait. So can parking properly. Robb walks after him, leaving the car nearly perpendicular to the curb, and has time to watch him rounding a corner at the top of the stairs and slam a door while he’s still in the entryway. Mom spies the scene from behind a vase in the living room, mouth a thin line.

Robb frowns back and goes up the stairs without another word, three steps at a time. Predictably, his door is locked.

“Theon, let me in!” His nose is almost glued to the minuscule crevice between the door frame and the door itself. He knows rationally that it’s no use, it won’t even help his voice to carry over, but he can’t stop. He needs to be as close as possible. “Let me help!”

“I don’t need it!” comes the answer, voice steady despite the fact that he can hear Theon’s jaws clattering through the door. There’s also a strange noise coming from the inside and that doesn’t reassure Robb any.

“I do! I need it,” Robb says. Every minute that passes without Theon rolled in blankets in front of the fire with a mug of something hot to drink is another minute that Robb works himself into a panic. He might still be working in an emergency mode, come to think of it. “You know me. I’ll kick that door down!”

Theon opens the door with a glare a minute later.

“I was changing. Isn’t that what you wanted me to do?”

He is wearing Robb’s wool flannel pajamas and brandishing his hairdryer around like a sword. He looks definitely warmer now, with some pink back in his cheeks already, hair down and somewhat dried and fluffy garish socks. But there are droplets running down his neck yet and he’s been far too quick to have dried himself properly.

“Now the blanket,” Robb says, guiding him to the bed with a hand on his back.

Theon lays down face first with a frustrated sigh, but allows Robb to pull the blanket up to his ears and turn it on. He also lets him put another three blankets on top of him with no other comment. Only when Robb is putting logs in the fireplace he snorts, though it’s barely noticeable from under all the layers.

“It’s such a rich people thing, to have a fireplace in the bedroom. Can’t bulk all together in the same room like peasants when it snows,” he says. It’s meant to be mocking, Robb guesses, but the effect is ruined by the tiredness in his voice.

At least he’s not slurring, Robb thinks, setting the smaller logs on fire and watching until it catches on the others.

“I don’t need the fireplace,” Theon goes on. “I’m warm already.”

“You owe me,” Robb says, finally approaching the bed. His voice raises as he keeps talking until he’s screaming, mounting anger as sudden as it is blazing. “You took off in the snow half-dressed. People die from the cold here all the time! Do you even understand that?! Do you?!”

Theon is silent. He looks at the fire very purposefully, unblinking.

Robb knows he’s being unfair, that Theon had left on instinct, that he hadn’t been thinking. But it’s a distant knowledge, covered up by the sound of his drumming heart. He hadn’t had the chance to take revenge on the true culprit. Benfred or whatever monster hurt Theon are not here, so it falls to him to suffer the brunt of Robb’s ire.

“You owe me. You scared me. Now lay there while I build up the fire and stop arguing. When I’m done here I’m going to make soup and you’ll eat as much as I bring you. If you try to fight me, I’m going to crawl into this bed and we’ll cuddle naked, Others take your eyes!”

At last, Theon turns his stare from the flames and looks at Robb with an incredulous face, eyebrows arched and eyes round like platters.

“Are you aware your threats sound like a day at a Lysene bath? Will you give me flowers as well?”

Robb just goes back to the stoking the fire angrily.

After he’s satisfied, he leaves Theon be and goes downstairs. He doesn’t mean to, but before he knows it, he’s banging pots and pans instead of moving calmly in the kitchen. He only stops when Mom appears at the door, the only other person at the house to be roused by his antics.

She seems ready to lecture him for moment. Robb can see the exact second she changes her mind.

“What’s happened, Robb?”

He only shakes his head and goes to the refrigerator. What are soups even made of? His vision is blurry. The only thing he can identify in there is the carton of milk. He’s fairly certain that’s not a soup ingredient.

“Benfred called while you were upstairs,” Mom says behind him, sounding worried. He slams the refrigerator door close without taking anything and turns to look at her, ready to fight for real, but she rushes to hug him instead.

Only when she tries to dry his tears does he realize he’s crying.

“All will be alright, sweetling,” she says. “Whatever happened, it can be fixed.”

It’s so tempting to just believe her. He wants it to be true. But she hasn’t seen Theon’s face.

“I’m not so sure. I might kill Benfred if I see him again today. I don’t care about his feelings,” he says.

“He called to apologize. It must be bad if he’s admitting to being wrong at all instead of whining to his parents.”

“He attacked Theon. Just. Ripped his clothes off his body,” he says, not surprised in the least when she gasps in shock. “Theon was so upset. He has… He panicked and ran outside.”

“Is he hurt? Should we call Luwin? Dad can leave the kids at the movies with Jon and get him here, it’ll be quicker,” she says. She hasn’t been quick to warm to Theon, always cautious, always on guard for anything or anyone that might hurt her children. But that doesn’t matter now.

Robb is so grateful he nearly collapses.

But he can’t, not yet, so instead he takes a deep breath and leans against the kitchen counter before speaking.

“He only stayed out a couple of minutes.” He sniffs and rubs his eyes. “He’s laying down by the fire now. I need… Mom, how do I make soup?”

“Sweetened milk will be quicker,” she says, already moving to get the jug. “Be generous with the sugar.”

Robb should knows those things. He’s lived here most of his life and he was the one who helped her when Bran got stuck on the roof. But his mind is blank. Somehow, the only thing he does is get on the way until Mom makes him sit down and prepares everything on her own. His only contribution is telling her Theon likes cinnamon.

She arranges thing neatly on a tray and gives it to him.

“I’ll tell the kids when they get back,” she says, though her offspring are all adults and teenagers, “to give you both some space. Make sure Theon rests.”

Robb nods and accepts the tray. He chooses a flower from the centerpiece in the living room on his way and goes back to the room before Mom sees.

Theon is thankfully wrapped in the blankets, but he’s managed to sit up against the headboard. He’s still watching the fire, only looking at Robb when his weight makes the mattress dip.

For a moment, the corner of his mouth curls up. He looks at the cup on the tray – definitely not the promised soup – with amusement. Then he turns sober and picks up the flower.

“I’m sorry I scared you,” he says. “I wasn’t… I didn’t–”

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Robb says, cutting him off gently. It’s so hard to apologize; he has always been bad at it, too stubborn to budge, uninterested in compromising, even more so with the traces of fear still echoing in his bones. But it’s almost worse listening to Theon apologize when he has done nothing wrong. “Please drink the milk?”

He lays the flower back on the tray carefully and drinks the beverage, first like it’s a duty, then with some joy at the taste. It’s clear he’s only doing it to appease Robb, though, because he leaves about a third on the cup and picks the flower back up to caress the petals.

“It’s a camellia,” he says.

“I know,” Robb says, taking the tray to his desk and going back to lay in the bed by Theon’s side, head propped by a hand to watch him. “Winter flowers. Arya grows then.”

“Is that why there are vases all over the house?” He asks, but doesn’t wait for an answer. “It means good luck.”

“Means other things as well,” Robb says, getting closer until he has his head on Theon’s lap. “Passion. Longing. Desire.”

“Only the red ones,” he points out.

“This one is red. I chose it for you,” Robb says.

Theon scoffs at him.

“Since when are you an expert?”

Robb grins, anticipating for the expression Theon is about to make.

“Since I started dating you. I bought a book and everything. It’s down in King’s Landing, but I consult it every time I pick you flowers. Though this time the choice was only between camellias or gerbera, and I’m never giving you that. Why do you look so surprised?”

It’s more than surprise on Theon’s face, in truth. Pure incredulity would be an apt description. But he’s blushing prettily and starting to smile, so Robb will take it.

“I can’t imagine you learning the language of flowers, that’s all,” he says.

“Well, you don’t believe me when I tell you things directly, so I had to find another way,” Robb says, not unkindly.

Theon’s smile becomes forced, then he remembers it’s just Robb there and he drops it altogether, adopting a blank expression. It’s disconcerting, but better than a mask, Robb thinks. He drags the flower like a caress over Robb’s face, brow to chin, over and over again, and Robb lets him, unsure of who is being comforted.

“Desire, uh? Even after today.”

His voice doesn’t betray how upset he is but for the slightest of tremors. Robb frowns, taking the hand holding the flower in his and kissing the inside of the wrist.

“That is not changing any time soon,” Robb confesses.

Theon scoffs again, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. The curl of his mouth turns bitter.

“Lock the door,” he orders.

It’s unusual, not so much the request, but the tone: unyielding and not inviting any rebuttal. Robb goes to the door and locks it, curious, only to turn around and see Theon climbing out from under the blankets.

“You have to keep warm,” Robb reminds him, watching as he shuffles the extra layers aside impatiently.

He doesn’t try to stop him, however, staying at the foot of the bed.

“I’m getting overheated if anything,” Theon says, rolling his eyes.

But his hands are shaking. He holds a palm up when Robb tries to approach and takes a deep breath.

Then he starts undressing.

The first to go are the socks. Robb is pathetic enough that this sends his heart racing. He stands there, frozen, watching. A part of him – an embarrassingly small part – is worried Theon is just making himself uncomfortable to make a point. Mostly he wants to take the rest of the clothes off himself, pin Theon to the bed and lick all the exposed skin, from his feet to the lobes of his ears.

After the socks, Theon does away with the flannel shirt. It’s excruciating to watch him undoing the buttons so slowly, teasing, and then letting the fabric fall off his shoulders to rest in a heap at his hip. By the time he has taken off the trousers and thrown them to the floor with an angry huff, Robb is hard in his pants and holding onto sanity by a thread.

Theon has been avoiding looking at him during the unprompted strip-tease, but now he kneels on the mattress and holds his gaze up in challenge.

His face morphs into stupor seeing Robb. Precisely, Robb’s hard-on.

“Are you serious right now?!” He screeches.

Robb can only shrug helplessly. Honestly, what was he expecting? It’s true that Theon has only a passing resemblance to the athletic man in his professional pictures: scars and marks are scattered all over his torso, legs, arms, some raised and red, some thin and nearly invisible, and there are discolored patches suspiciously regular in shape that make Robb think of skin grafts. He is missing toes, as he suspected, and he’s still far too thin. But he’s bare in front of him, glorious in his fury. Breathtaking. Beautiful.

Not only from the beauty of survival either. Robb drinks his visage in, trying to memorize everything. He’s bathed in a sheen of sweat from Robb’s excessive attempts at getting him warm, painted gold by the fireplace light. He would taste salty if Robb were to kiss him, starting from his long neck and down to his chest, then to the curve of his thigh. The hair on his chest, circling brown nipples, running down his navel and around his cock, is peppered with grey too, though sparsely, and far too tamed to be in a natural state. Still, nothing like his clean-shaved photos. It has Robb making fists at his side so he doesn’t reach out to yank him closer and bury his face on Theon’s crotch.

Better than everything else put together, he starts to blush from Robb’s heated gaze and the pink spreads all over. His cock jumps a little and Theon covers it and avoids his eyes, embarrassed even though that’s the one part of him Robb has seen before.

“I can’t help it. What did you think would happen?” Robb asks, voice rasping. He gets on the bed and crawls to where Theon is kneeling, but only touches him lightly under the chin, forcing Theon to look at him.

“Not this,” he admits, softly. Robb has the distinct impression that he’s speaking from experience.

If he’s completely honest, the only other emotion he’s capable of feeling right now other than lust is rage, that someone would do this to another human being and to Theon in particular. Even that is muted by how much he _wants_. To touch, to possess, to leave his own marks in purple with his teeth, until they’re all Theon remembers of his own body.

“This is all I have to offer,” he says. “So if you don’t want it, put some clothes on right now.”

Theon shakes his head slightly, biting his lower lip. It escapes his teeth wet, red and full.

“Take yours off.”

Instead of obeying, Robb leans forward and kisses him, guiding him onto his back on the bed and settling between his legs.

The taste of hunger on Theon’s mouth is nearly tangible, a mix of saliva and cinnamon. He paws at Robb’s clothes violently, not bothering to push them away, just opens the front to his shirt and pants so they can touch skin to skin.

By the time Robb breaks off the kiss and starts mouthing at his neck, Theon is hard. He keens, voice high and loud, when Robb sucks his nipple, buckles into his mouth and tries to drag him even closer, hands buried on his hair. Robb takes one of his hands, drags it to his mouth, and sucks at the vein on the wrist before letting himself be pushed further down.

Yet he takes his time, just in case this is a one-time thing. He sucks and bites Theon’s belly, his thighs; he follows the line of a scar to the back of his knee and sucks there too. He wants to map every inch of his body, to know every patch of skin better than anyone before.

Theon is alternating between moaning and biting on his knuckles when Robb finds sensitive spots. His eyes are blown black when he looks down and Robb holds his gaze as he licks his cock, base to tip.

Robb is not as good at this as Theon. He can only take about half of his cock in his mouth before it becomes too much and he’s enjoying it more for the naked pleasure written on Theon’s face than for the act itself. But that is enough; soon Theon closes his eyes and turns his head to the side to bite hard on a pillow. That’s all the warning he gets before he tastes jizz on his mouth.

Theon is still panting and shivering when Robb turns him around, pulls his full ass apart and spits right on the puckered hole.

From there, it’s quick work; he’s far too turned on to last long, so he just slips his cock between Theon’s cheeks and rubs himself all over the mess there. He leans over Theon’s back – far less scared than his front – and bites his neck while Theon whimpers softly.

“You can fuck me if you want,” Theon says, voice full of promises, head turning just enough that Robb could kiss him again.

So he does and comes on the dimples of Theon’s back.

 

* * *

 

“What is the chance anyone heard us?” Theon asks.

He’s taken his revenge on Robb not taking his clothes off as commanded by wiping the mess they made on Robb’s undershirt, forcing him to undress at last. Despite the question, he seems unworried, lounging naked on a nest of blankets and pillows worth of any magister of old. The one thing missing is someone feeding him grapes and fanning him, though neither would go with the northern climate.

As he’s generous enough to let Robb rest his head on his stomach and play with his hair, Robb fights sleep and tries to give the question the proper consideration.

“I’m not sure,” he says. Theon was loud, but the house is big and most everyone is downtown still. The staff doesn’t count, since they won’t mention it, and Mom knows better than to come near; she did raise three teenage boys. “Slim to none, I’d guess.”

“You’d guess, huh?” Theon teases, combing his hair back with his fingers and smirking when Robb all but purrs.

“Never had anyone over before,” he says, each word more slurred than the last. He can only imagine how knackered he’ll be when he fucks Theon for real.

“You were _not_ a virgin,” Theon states.

Robb smirks a little.

“Maybe I was. Maybe I’m just a natural.” He laughs when Theon pulls lightly at a curl, making it bounce. “I meant I’ve never brought anyone home before.”

The silence that follows is comfortable. Robb doesn’t notice the moment he closes his eyes, just the moment when he has to force himself to open them again.

“Guess I’m that special,” Theon says, sounding both incredulous and fond.

Robb looks at Theon’s face, eyelids heavier by the second, wishing he could commit the smile on the corner of Theon’s mouth to memory so he could look at it whenever and think, _I did that_.

“You are to me,” he says.

He closes his eyes again, losing that battle at last. He still registers the feeling of Theon brushing his hair back from his brow one more time, and quiet words, before falling asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings, warnings: Ramsay is not mentioned by name, but it's implied that he did some stuff to Theon, and Theon has the marks on his body to prove. Those marks are described in some detail (implied cutting, flaying and rape). Benfred is insistent and a bit violent in his pursuit of Robb. Some parental neglect and abandonment is also implied.


End file.
